


Isolation Accomplished

by Davechicken



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 30 Yr Anniversary Tag, Coronavirus pandemic, Fix It, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:54:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23964196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: Aziraphale tries a second time.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 35
Kudos: 150





	Isolation Accomplished

**Author's Note:**

  * For [UlsPi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/UlsPi/gifts), [Lisalicious](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lisalicious/gifts).



“WHAT?”

“Oh, er, it’s me - are you asleep?”

“Yes, angel, I’m asleep.”

“I meant - I meant _were_ you asleep?”

“Yes.”

“Oh. Oh, I’m sorry, should I--?”

A long suffering sigh came over the phone. “Why did you call me?”

“Well, I just - you seemed rather miffed after the last call, and - I - well, I was… _concerned_...”

“Right. Concern satisfied. Can I go?”

Aziraphale twirled the curly cord around his finger, miserably. “I… I s-suppose…”

Crowley did not hang up. Aziraphale did not hang up. The line stretched out interminably, cut only by the vaguest sounds of needless breathing. 

Another sigh. “What is it?”

“It’s just - well - you know. Cake… and… whatnot. Really rather… sad. To. Uhm…”

“Why not put a sign up saying ‘burgle me for free cake’ then?”

Which was not the point and Aziraphale considered slamming the phone down very hard. “You didn’t come by!”

“You told me not to!”

“I said - I said it wasn’t allowed! But you’re a demon!”

“Yeah? And that means I’m supposed to break any law? Like, all of them? Want me to go shoot ordnance at some ships, too? Or - or - steal a swan?”

“Don’t be ridiculous! It’s - it’s just - you would have come by _before_.”

“So, by saying ‘no’, when I asked did you want me to come by, you actually meant ‘yes’, but you wanted me to be the one to take the initiative, and wanted to assuage your guilt about breaking the rules, and scold me for being exactly what you want me to be?”

Yes, actually. And make him feel important enough for rules to be broken for. And…

“No,” he lied.

“You’re lying.”

“I am not.”

“You are. I can tell, because you’re moving your mouth. Lie more often than me. Probably before me, if we’re honest - which you’re not.”

“That’s absurd! I’m - I’m an--”

“Angel of the Lord, blah, blah, blah. Cut any of those cakes with that flaming sword, have you?”

Aziraphale swallowed painfully. “I don’t know why you’re being so horrid about this.”

“Maybe the part where I offered to come by with fine beverages, and you told me to fuck off? Even though you’re hosting random hooligans and thugs?”

“I _called you_.”

“Yes. Twice, now. Almost a record, if I’m honest.”

Did he really call that much less? Maybe he did. Well, it should be considered more meaningful, shouldn’t it?

“Well, if you don’t want to come around, you could just say so,” the angel snapped.

“You haven’t actually invited me. In fact, the opposite.”

“You are not a vampire, Crowley.”

There was rather a bit of silence, as both of them nursed feelings. Crowley was clearly not yet in a conciliatory mood, and Aziraphale found it easier to be grumpy than anything else. 

“Are you, Aziraphale, inviting me, Crowley, to be your lawful, lockdown flatmate?”

The tone - half-way between sneering contempt and aching wanting… it hurt. Why did he have to insist on the words? Why couldn’t it just be understood?

Why couldn’t he bring himself to say it?

“If you _were_ living… here… it would be permitted…” Which, of course, he’d been angling for Crowley to argue the semantics of in the first place. 

“And I’d be doing you a favour. Because of how many cakes you’re making.”

“Y-yes…”

“And out of it, I get…? I mean, doesn’t _sound_ all that ‘demonic’...”

“Uhm, you - you get to - I mean, I owe you from the night at yours… and… perhaps you won’t be _quite_ so bored, if… if you’re… spending time with me?”

The demon had asked him to Alpha Centauri. Begged him to run away with him. And he wasn’t leaping at the chance to come by, now, when a legal trickery was every excuse to just not leave for maybe months on end? 

(He knew, though, that Crowley was secretly just as sensitive as he was. And he knew, too, that he’d been less than kind and charitable towards him. And…)

“I guess. But you’re getting a better TV.”

“Oh?”

“And all the streaming services. And some other shit. I’m not reading books all day.”

“Oh! Ah, yes! This… Net-film and chicks?”

“...close enough. Fine. I’ll be round in a bit. Gotta water the plants.”

“...you could bring those, too,” Aziraphale offered. “I mean. If you’d like.”

Crowley stopped breathing. Aziraphale could hear the choke. “...I guess.”

“Splendid! I shall even make a Devil’s food cake for you! And I have just the space with natural light for the plants, and--”

Crowley hung up, but Aziraphale continued regardless. He had to let it all out, and now the demon wasn’t listening, he could say everything he wished he had the courage to. 

At least they’d be together. That was one more step in the right direction. 

Maybe he should pre-heat the oven…


End file.
